


East Wind's Honor

by lilappleblossom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilappleblossom/pseuds/lilappleblossom
Summary: Hanzo has been with Overwatch for a year since learning of his brother, Genji's survival. He only feels right to return to the Shimada Temple one last time on the anniversary of his death. This time he finds not Genji, not the Yakuza thugs that would stop him from paying his respects; but a single, young Miko charged with caring for the temple.





	East Wind's Honor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bad at summaries but basically this is a fanfiction that my husband and I have been writing together for a few months now, starring Hanzo Shimada and my OC Yumi Kobayashi.
> 
> This is the first chapter, there are many more but I want to judge interest before I decide to post it. So if you like it please comment or give a kudos and I'll keep posting the many other chapters we have finished.
> 
> This is also my first time ever writing something in first person/present tense so if you spot some tense screw ups, I apologize, we don't have a proofreader/editor. The point of view also changes from Yumi's to Hanzo's back and forth. Hanzo's point of view is primarily written by my husband and Yumi's is written by myself, with us switching every now and again to add or fix certain things. This is a joint effort and just something we find really fun to do and we wanted to save it somewhere for posterity.
> 
> This is also super inspired by many shoujo anime tropes and fanart/fanfiction in the Overwatch community. I plan to make a list of all the creators that inspired certain parts of the story eventually but that will take some time. So if you recognize something from another creator, please know we claim no ownership over really anything in this story except maybe Yumi as a character, otherwise it's just a celebration of all the things we love within the Overwatch community.
> 
> This first chapter is tame and pretty fluffy but the story gets into super smutty territory later but I'm not going to worry about tagging that in case I never bother posting it. Forewarning, there is an age gap between the two that some may find uncomfortable so if that's not your cup of tea you may want to avoid reading. Thank you.
> 
> So enjoy, and if you have any constructive criticism feel free to post it. 
> 
> Thank you.

There is a stillness to the night that brings caution to my footsteps. I should be thankful for the peace, for the tranquility. Tonight, no Yakuza mill about the perimeter, or even slump against chairs or pillars. Only the soft rattle of leaves and swaying grass make their intentions known to me, and the untrusting, paranoid part of my mind forces me to watch for lures or traps. 

It is the anniversary of my brother's death, and in years past, I had to run, shoot, and fight my way into the temple, my old home, and test the severity of my exile.

I did not believe Genji when he told me that I would find no resistance, but it seems as though the Shimada Temple has truly been abandoned tonight. I was urged that it would be… closed for holiday, but never had the Clan’s business been suppressed or distracted. Our family name is too well known, too dangerous to be threatened or dissuaded, but…

… much has changed since last year. My brother's half-life, the stirrings of Talon, my parlay with Overwatch. He assured me that this year would be a time of healing for me, even as I sweat and skirmish and bleed harder than I had ever before. Maybe this is the one small gift he could bring me from beyond the grave, from his walking, cybernetic tomb.

The shrine seems undisturbed from a distance as I pull back the rice paper doors, but the altar has been… prepared. Steam curls lazily from the spout of a clay kettle. A matching clay cup rests on a simple wooden table. A sparrow's feather lay delicately placed beside it. 

I cannot help but grunt in surprise. Old reflexes still warn of what dangers could lurk in the dim corners of the temple, but with a display as particular as this, it is as though the ghost of my brother had just set the kettle down and evaporated into the steam of the kettle, knowing that deep down, my soul truly wishes for the solitude and peace offered on this very night.

\---

I know that there is no point in what I have decided to do, but with being the only person in the temple, I feel it is a perfect time to do so. I have read the stories of the return of Overwatch, I know that there are two members that share names of some very familiar Shimada family members. I also know I, and anyone else, have been forbidden to pay homage to them.

Genji’s name is a curse among the Shimada. He had almost single handedly taken down the entire criminal empire the family controlled, finishing the work the elder Shimada had begun. Hanzo’s name isn’t even permitted to be spoken aloud.

But the tales of the Dragon Brothers fascinate me. My Aunt had told me of the old stories, of the former demi gods that walked the Earth, shedding their immortal forms and living amongst us. And while the stories usually end there, she firmly believes that the spirits of those dragons live within the brothers, even as they fight for different causes, in their own ways. 

I know that Hanzo has broken into the temple, before I had been accepted as a shrine maiden, to honor his brother with offerings. I also know that Genji has resurfaced, seemingly raised from dead, and Hanzo has no need to visit any longer. 

But I feel it only right to uphold the tradition and honor these two heroes. The Shimada clan has now dwindled to nothing more than a few small holdings and temples. The clan’s reputation has all but diminished; what was once a powerful crime family, has been reduced to public national treasures or condemned warehouses. 

And yet, I continue to work at this temple, my current home. Those that had taken control after the dishonorable ones had been dispatched were good people. Older generations like my aunt that respected tradition, or government officials that at least put up enough of a front of honor that kept these buildings from being demolished.   
And then, there is myself. I want to help the clan, and the Shimada brothers, even if just in name and spirit. Perhaps my service and duty to this temple, and the last heirs to it, will help return this place to a glory that didn’t rest on the back of crime. Even if I am only a Miko.

For a single moment, I feel my guard lowering. The scent of tea and incense carried on the breeze, crickets repeating their mantras, and the moon above beaming silver streaks of light through the doorway. 

Then I hear the barely audible shift of cotton over wood, spin out of of the doorway, and reach to my quiver. I know the moonlight will cast my silhouette on the paper doors, the crickets will still as I draw tension into my bowstring, and the scent of ozone will charge the air as my arrow powers on. 

\---

Moments ago, I set an arrangement of offerings in the same form Hanzo had left a year ago. I now return to the altar with the items I had nearly forgotten to include: a single arrow that I had found buried in the floor last year, and Genji’s old katana. It had been taken down from it’s honorable spot when his resurrection was discovered, but I claimed it and stowed the weapon under a floorboard when no one else was looking. These men were saving the world and bringing honor back to the Shimada clan. They had a right to be honored.

I kneel in front of the altar, crossing the arrow and sword in front of me, and I begin a soft prayer in honor of the brothers. I ask the kami, the old spirits of the temple, to watch over the Shimada brothers. I beg for their protection, success and luck in whatever they do. I also pray for the other heroes of the Overwatch, wishing for their protection from the dangers of their efforts.

My eyes open, and I find myself staring at the sword and arrow crossed before me. With a small smile, I pour a cup of tea, place it just above the cross of the two weapons, then poured a cup for myself. I raise it in honor and sip from it.

These two weapons, these relics, are the closest I will likely ever come to meeting my heroes in person any time soon. I have seen Genji's silhouette on the rooftops in the past, silently making himself known and distantly watching over the state of the temple grounds. I have actually met him once, and the pleasant nature of his tinny voice and the kindness in his words melted away any doubts to his nature. There is a kind, wise soul in that man-shaped machine, and I know any rumors of curses or bad luck is untrue.

Then there is Hanzo… 

\---

Lies. Plots. Battle. It is both the reduction of my existence and the reason I still draw breath. There can truly be no peace until my eyes close, and the sleep of a warrior is either found when blade pierces heart or when age sees you shrivelled and forgotten.   
I take in a breath, lower my center, and spin into the entrance, arrow at my cheek and eyes zeroed into the heart of a…

...Girl. A young girl. Barely a meter and a half tall, bobbed brown hair, her frame kneeling in front of what I thought were my brother's offerings. She is wrapped in traditional red and white robes, her back to me as she sits on her heels, unaware of my presence. I recognize the outfit as the kimono of a temple maiden. A Miko.

\---

He is handsome, mysterious, a Yakuza Prince in body, but truly a fallen dragon in spirit. Little is spoken of him any more, other than the whispered threat of his ire on silent nights. But I know that he, too, is more than a forgotten son. His actions are not driven simply by vengeance or violence, but atonement and redemption. He is Tormented by his past, haunted by his actions. 

And how do I know this? Not by idle rumor or wishful daydream. 

Genji told me so. I believe him.

\---

Have the Shimada ever employed maidens before? This suddenly feels like both a trivial and important question as the tension in the bow begs for release, but as the fire of adrenaline and death begin to subside, my instincts force me to keep the bow drawn, for now.

\---

So, staring at the display of weapons, symbolizing a tortured soul and a ghost returned, I speak aloud, to them.

“There are good people running the Shimada Clan now...I hope that makes you both happy.” I say smiling. “And I hope you both find peace.”

\---

Observing the girl as a potential assassin feels more and more shameful as the seconds tick by. Her prayers are softly spoken, and hearing the Shimada name spoken in reverence, not fear or loathing, seems so… foreign. 

The tension of my bow gradually lessens, and the weapon lowers as I glide out of view. So willing am I to loose an arrow at the merest sign of threat, yet I struggle to find peace. If this place is to be reserved for someone who wishes my clan and my good fortune, let it not be by my hand that I disturb them. Not when they can have death come so easily, and still find the time to pray for the damned and the forgotten.

\---

I sip the last of my tea and sigh, looking up at the great Shimada banner that hangs in front of me. I am content with my offers, and my thoughts, so I bow and begin cleaning up the kettle and cups. I let the incense burn as I place the tea on a tray…

But the arrow calls out to me.

I pick it up with both hands, spinning it between my fingers, marveling at the marriage of the old and the new. This is hardly the first time I have handled it, but never have I had the chance to honor it properly. 

Or play with it.

I bite my lip and look around, even though I know I am alone tonight. There may not be another chance for the temple to be this quiet, this undisturbed, and I feel as though I may be permitted a short moment of wild abandon. I've properly honored them, after all… a hint of freedom could be overlooked, right?

I walk over to a wall where a simple wooden longbow hangs and carefully take it down. This arrow is much heavier than a wooden arrow; I had shot bows before as part of my training, but never with an arrow like this.

I straighten my glasses before I draw the bow, allowing a mind tempered by the silence and solitude of almost a year power my imagination. 

\---

I go to leave this place, but a familiar creak of curved wood and taught wire catches my ear, and in a blink I take cover behind a pillar.

\---

The blood of the Shimada clan courses through my heart. The power of dragons ancient and immortal fill my lungs. The electric blue energy of twin Demi-Gods coil around my body, my arm, my arrow.

I aim the bow out of the door open door, into the courtyard, words of power and might notched on my tongue, and I take a deep breath...

\---

I tense as I prepare for some sort of attack…

But am instead subject to a youthful, feminine declaration,

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

My eyes furrow in deep confusion, and a moment later, a familiar arrow clatters across the porch of the temple entrance, it's inert form skidding to a stop. 

\---

I squint at the stilled ammunition, the arrow not flying nearly as far as I had hoped, “It's too heavy for a wood bow.”

\---

Of course, the arrows were meant to be a deadly marriage of technology and tradition. But, without power,they are heavy, awkward, and blunt. Surely this had not been a true attack? An experiment? A playful, private moment of childish mimicry? 

Soft, padded steps approach, and as I shift out of her view, words heavy with sorrow and wonder make their way to my senses,

“I wish I could see the dragons in real life...I’m sure they’d be beautiful…”

I suddenly feel weighted by her words, and speak aloud, “Those who see dragons are either doomed, or cursed by their power.”

\---

Just as I am bending down to retrieve the arrow, an unfamiliar voice speaks out; deep and purring, it's Japanese flawless. I nearly leap out of my skin, an unceremonious yelp my response to those words, and I find myself darting about, my glasses nearly falling eskew searching for the ominous voice.

“H-hello? Who’s t-there?”

\---

I step out, no longer willing to hide so shamefully, “They are terrible and ethereal in form, but I have never heard them described at beautiful.”

\----

And just like that, the eldest Shimada son, the brother to the once-murdered Genji, and the assassin soulbound to not one, but two dragons of ancient lore, materializes from the shadows to stare down upon me.

And my skin feels as if it has lit aflame.

“H-Hanzo-kun!...Er...Hanzo-Sama!” My bow clatters awkwardly onto the porch and I drop to the ground, prostrate, and spilling into a nerve-fried ramble,

“I am sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here after...Well...I would have made tea. Shall I? Have you been here the entire time? I am so sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this in your stead. It was not right of me. I’m so sorry.” I bowed over and over again in apology, too afraid to look up at that intense face.

I had dreamed of meeting Hanzo at least once, and his brother more than the fleeting moments we have shared. They are heroes, great warriors and honorable men. But now, standing under the gaze of one of the brothers that wields the dragons...I am afraid. My mind fills with shame and fear and cluttered, chaotic possibilities of his next actions, so much so that I I feel the world around me waver and swoon in vertigo. I finally settle on pressing my forehead into the ground, not just to steady my spinning environment, but mostly because I do not know what else to do.

\---

With each apology, I fight the urge to counter, but cannot edge in a word between her frantic bows and clipped offerings.

I allow myself a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath, waiting for her to run out of gomens, or air, whichever came first. My hands flex in in self control, and it is then that I realize my bow was still in hand. 

Unless this girl is an assassin of unmatched infiltration and guile, her silent prayers, prior tomfoolery, and oversized lenses of her glasses mark her as an innocent. Confident temple maiden can surely cannot mean me harm, I shoulder the string of the bow across my chest and cross my arms,

“I did not know the temple hired a maiden. Are there truly so few tending to the grounds, after this year?”

\--

Still feeling judged under the with of his presence, yet not nearly as dizzy anymore, I sit up straight to answer his question.

“Your brother has been...Busy.” I say with a small smile. “I was hired the day after your...Em...Reunion with your brother. Does this displease you?”

\--

I glance around, noticing the grounds seem as well kept as when there were with dozens of hired help,

“Have you managed to tend to the grounds, all on your own?”

\--

My tension lessens by another fraction, now that he only seems to want to talk,

“Yes, aside from my Aunt who taught me the intricacies of this particular temple, at the beginning of the year. Otherwise I’ve been on my own.”

As he looks around, I embolden my gaze upon him, seeing how rare of an occurrence this moment could truly be. I let my eyes dart to the quiver mounted on his back, the bow slung over his chest. I then wander over the impressive tattoo that covers his entire left arm. It is just as gorgeous close as had imagined, but the ink pulls my eyes to his half exposed chest, the left pectoral broad and square.

I feel heat rise to my face; seeing him now, live and so very near me, I can understand the sorrow in the whispers of the female ex-Yakuza. They would speak of the 'terrible waste of such a handsome prince', and would speak of when he was much younger. Fresh faced, long of hair, lean of body.

Now, aged by battle and a hard life, I see no waste, except maybe his inattention finding a woman to court. He is beautiful to look at, even with the intensity in his eyes. As he looks back to me I lower my eyes from his face, trying to fight the blush on my face, and failing.

\---

I consider the vastness of the temple and it's grounds, and the level of raw dedication can effort it would take to maintain it all, alone. No less, as a small, young girl.

“Then in that case, consider your efforts recognized, and myself pleased.” 

My gaze falls back to her, and as her whole body starts and her head bows in fearful respect, I feel an eyebrow rise. Whoever her aunt is, she could have easily been affiliated with some form of distasteful business, if her connection to the clan were strong. Or, she could have just as easily been one of the more traditional types, passing on archaic knowledge and wisdom in an attempt to keep the spirit of the grounds alive.

Either way, her presence can easily be shooed away, and I can actually find the peace I seek…

...But before I can find myself dismissing the girl, of which I have no doubt she would obey, I find myself distracted by something else. My gaze finds the sleek, metallic arrow she attempted to fire, and the old, wooden bow it was loosed from. Acting out of habit, I bend down to retrieve it, and find myself eye level with her kneeling form,

“This one is inert. It will not fly true using what you have there.”

\---

I blink and glance at him then the bow.

“O-oh...I...Was just…” I clear my throat. “It was childish…”

I lean over and retrieved the bow from the ground, holding it in both hands and considering its function,

“I-I should return this to it’s proper place.” I say bowing again rising to my feet. 

\--

For the short moment she meets eyes with me, her eyes shine with regret, and her face burns with an excited shame that seems magnified by her circular spectacles. As she rises, clutching the bow to return it to wherever it belonged, I find myself turning the arrow shaft between my fingers, and looking over to the shrine where my brother's sword lay. 

A moment of agitation passes as I realize that I had missed a detail. Below the sword lay an empty wooden stand, built just wide enough to place a long, thin object. The arrow's placement suddenly became clear, and I calmly walk to the shrine, kneel, and place the arrow in its place.

“Is this also of your doing, or was it my brother's idea to set a place for my remembrance?” 

\---

I turn toward him and see that he is kneeling where I had been just moments before. 

“Oh...I…” I pause. “I felt it only right that, since your brother and you have been...Busy, that the tradition you began be upheld in some way. You are both alive and together, more or less, so I felt a prayer of luck to you would be sufficient. I didn’t think you would be making your way to the temple again, now that you know Genji is alive. But…”

I swell with a sudden surge of realization, Genji's words echoing and my isolated, romantic imagination momentarily taking over my verbal thoughts,

“Of course,that wasn’t the only reason you came, was it? It was to seek clarity and forgiveness within yourself...Not only to honor your brother, but to remember what you had done, and no doubt to reflect on your sins. Not to mention this past year, as I’m sure it’s been very different...”

\---

The arrow shaft creaks under my grip, and I find myself glaring at the girl.

Her knowledge of my trials and hardships are spoken as if it were such a simple matter to discuss. Is it such common knowledge now, that even a servant of the temple could speak of the burdens of my shame with ease? Is it so easy to cast such causal understanding, to see the complexities of my existence and have them viewed, solved and judged like some amateur’s haiku?

\---

I clap a hand to my mouth, realizing the immense disrespect I had just committed, and begin to involuntary shake from the rising terror of my rant,

“I-I am...So s-sorry, I should not have said that… That is not my business. I k-k-know nothing of your thoughts and actions, it was rude of me to presume that I did. F-forgive me, I… I shall leave you to reflect, I am sorry I intruded.” I bow so deeply that my chest is nearly parallel to the ground, and I begin backing out of the room to leave Hanzo in peace.

\--

Behind those oversized glasses, her face reddens to the point that she looks as if she were going to pass out from pure shame. 

She is just a young Miko… and others have made far worse slights against my honor. I have, after all, been living occasionally with the operatives of Overwatch, and more than once they have shared their opinions of my aloof and distant nature. If this girl could be this insightful within moments of our meeting, maybe it was not her fault to voice them as she did. And in all reality, I have every capability either denying her claim, or admittedly praise the Miko for her intuition.

So, I suck in a breath and settle for the grateful response, even if my tone reeks of patient tolerance,

“You are… wise to see me with such clarity at your age. I forget that sometimes, to be young, is to see the world with hopeful eyes, and bare a heart lightened by potential and innocence. I have not been so unburdened in many, many years.”

I regard the arrow, and with both hands, reverently set it in its stand, beneath my brother's sword.

“But, this past year, I have felt myself… lighten, by fractions, and to know there is at least one person in this world who wishes me peace and good fortune, I lighten further.”

With hands on my knees, I stare up at the clan heraldry, but notice that the girl has listened, yet continue to retreat.

“What is your name, temple maiden?”

\--

I freeze and look up to Hanzo, a flicker of forgiveness steadying me. I bow again before I reply.

“Y-yumi.” I stutter out. Yet, simply answering with my name did not feel like enough,

“And... it is not wisdom on my part that gives me insight. I...Have communed with your brother once or twice, and have even watched your reunion last year with your Genji Shimada...Several times. It was captured on the cameras that the Yakuza had installed here to spy on others.” 

I see his face return to anger, and my hands rise up in fear, quickly finish my thought. “Th-the cameras are gone now, we insisted on getting rid of them after I was hired, it wasn't within the spirit of the temple. And no one else saw the recording. I...Deleted it. Well, copied it then deleted it. Though if you wish it I will get rid of my recording immediately.” I bow again cursing my stupid mouth.

\--

My eyes close, and my jaw clenches as I keep my tone even,

“Do you know… the value of what such a recording could hold? There are many enemies of the Shimada clan that would pay, steal or kill for such a moment if vulnerability. And after convincing the clan to remove this potential extortion material, you keep your own copies…”

I look at her, and see that she is on the verge of shivering,

“... Why do you tell me this?”

\---

I am on the verge of shivering, and I feel my eyes moisten in shame,

“I...Because...Well, I suppose I have no right to it, as it is you and your brother's. I kept it because...Well I don't know why I kept it.”

I take a deep breath and look up at him,

“You are right, it was dangerous for me to keep such a thing, it could have put you and your brother in great danger. I am being selfish...Forgive me, I will destroy it at once.” 

\---

I find myself taking another breath, further tempering my thoughts. 

She is young, hopeful, and naive. To pass judgement on her so harshly would be unbefitting to her servitude, especially with the, admittedly, intricate and vast efforts she has put into the maintenance of the grounds. 

Besides, I would not mind seeing the footage for myself.

“Yumi.”

I watch her freeze, her shoulders hunched as if ready to receive a blow, and her reaction softens the edge to my voice,

“You have offered respect in my name, which is no small matter to me.”

Rising, I fix her an even stare, but not a harsh one,

“If you bring me this file, I will consider it a gift. You would agree that something this sensitive should be held by its rightduk owner, yes?”

\---

“Y-yes, of course. Allow me a moment to move it to something more portable.” I say bowing again and jogging toward my room. I quickly slide the rice paper door open and boot up my laptop, finding the file hidden deep through several folders, and initiate its transfer to an extra thumb drive.

As I wait for the file to transfer, I reflect on these… I check the clock on the screen… twelve minutes?

Hanzo Shimada, the elder dragon brother and a great warrior of the Overwatch, has addressed me by name

A nervous, unbelieving chuckle escapes me as I look across the many Overwatch posters along my walls, the comic books, the hand drawn pictures of both of the brothers.

They are everything I wanted to be as a warrior. I practiced all of my life to be like them. Bow, sword, hand to hand combat, all part of the education part of the type of Miko training sponsored by a on r powerful Yakuza family. I’ve fantasized of wielding the dragons in battle, Shimada blood or not. The brothers are strong, wise, driven. And Hanzo himself is so...

...so handsome. 

I know I am blushing as I run the video back through my mind. The recording technology is not the clearest, and the finer details are lost in either clipping framerates or bad angles. Things like the flight of Genji's shuriken, the patterns of Hanzo's tattoo, or the strikes and parries of each other's combat are implied, but imperfect.

And yet, Hanzo had enraptured me even in that resolution. His voice, mannerisms and abilities in their duel had taken hold of my thoughts many times over the past year. He is even more impressive face to face.

I take a breath and shake my head, turning my eyes back to the file transfer, drumming my fingers as I wait.

\--

The night has become… very different from what I had planned. 

In being honest with myself, I realize I had expected far worse. 

Despite the unexpected inconvenience of the knowledge of such a defining moment in my life being recorded, this was a far easier challenge to manage versus, for instance, the countless assassins and villains that have attempted to snuff out my existence. 

Meeting this young girl is… strange. Normally, I would not have paid attention to the serving staff of the temple; it is usually custom for them to avoid notice from their superiors. Maybe it is the fact that this Miko claims that she is the only person tending to these grounds. She is awkward and shy, but I cannot feel any ill intent from this maiden, quite the opposite actually.

What is it that fuels her need to speak so openly to me? Earnest servitude? Misguided adoration? Unsullied innocence?

As I mull over these thoughts, kneeling before this shrine and thinking about the nature of this young woman, I feel my curiosity flare. What else did she know? What secrets did she harbor? Is it simply infatuation, or is it something more? 

I remove the bow and quiver from my back, confident that I would be able to handle any other surprises this young woman may have for me. With a smooth motion, I rise to my feet, and begin to trace the steps she made as Yumi made her way away. 

\---

As the file is nearly finished I stand up to glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. My hair is disheveled from doing chores in the wind all day, my face is still red as those familiar, private thoughts of Hanzo run through my mind, and my kimono is stained with dirt and dust from cleaning. I take my glasses off and clean them with my sleeve before running a brush through my hair.

I stop and stare at myself, laughing tiredly. What am I doing? Do I think Hanzo would notice anything about me? I am a servant to his family’s temple, nothing more. Do I really think brushing my hair and cleaning the dirt smudges from my face would turn his head?

I sigh and shake my head. Well, if for no other reason than to give him the respect he deserves by looking my best, I could use a touch of polish. I quickly change into a clean kimono and tie my rather short hair back, leaving my bangs free. I look at myself, and cross my arms as I meet my own eyes.

“Oh Hanzo…” I whisper irreverently. “You seem so sad, even now after you’ve gotten everything you wanted. Your brother is alive, your family’s criminal empire has all but disintegrated, you are a powerful hero within the Overwatch. Does what you did still weigh on you so much? He said knowing that I pray for his well being lightened him...I wish there was something more I could do.” 

I stop and laugh at myself, resting my head against my mirror with a soft 'thunk', “Yumi, you’re talking to yourself again...Remember what Aunt Tohru said; talking to yourself is the sign of a wandering and lonely mind.”

I meet the mirror again, reward myself with another thunk,

“Aaaand I’m still doing it….”

I groan in exasperation and plop into my desk chair, 

“I’m so uninteresting...Seeing Hanzo in full, inches away, is so overwhelming... and just shows how unworthy I am to even be serving the Shimada clan. I’m going to live out my days here, pruning, sweeping, praying alone. I hate it...I thought this would be a stepping stone to glory...I thought I could defend the temple one day...But I’m only here to dust it.”

There’s a small chime from my desk as the file finishes transferring, and I turn my face to my laptop screen.

“At least I can give this gift to Hanzo...I can touch greatness once in my insignificant life.” I pull out the thumb drive, but find myself staring at it. This tiny thing in my hand holds the single thread of personal connection I will likely ever dream of experiencing with Hanzo Shimada, and I am about to hand it to him, lost to me, forever…

I grip the tiny plastic device in my fist, unwilling to let go; selfishly, desperately holding onto the moments locked within…

I glance at the door, and lie to myself, 

“He won’t mind if I watch it once more…” 

I slip the thumb drive back to its place and bring up the video. With a click, I am a child once again, watching their favorite holo vid for the thousandth time.

Except I am not a child, just a lonely girl with an impossible crush.

I watch the Yakuza be dispatched one by one. See his shadow flit from corner to corner from multiple views. Hanzo trods into the shrine, and sets his offerings, kneeling in front of the altar. His head turns in perceptibly, and I utter along with the recording,

“You are not the first assassin sent to kill me me; and you will not be the last.”

I know every word as it is spoken, Know every move, every sound. I whisper the words aloud as they were spoken by each brother.

Halfway through their dialogue feel my heart tighten, knowing this would be my last time witnessing this scene. The brothers begin their duel, and I want so much to be like them. But it seems that it will never be so, silent tears fall down my face as I watch their grace, their skill, mimicking the disbelief of Hanzo's voice as Genji banters him almost effortlessly.

But I only have the power to copy their words, nothing else. I am nothing compared to these two, and men like them are everything...I am thankful to experience this moment as much as I can, but lament at the thought that I would live out the remainder of my life without it.

\--

If there is any doubt in my mind as to finding her room, it is silenced as I catch the faint, yet intense sounds of a familiar battle. The sliding door to the Yumi's room is partially open, and for the second time tonight, I find myself peering through to view her, unaware of my presence. 

The room is dark, save for the electric blue glow of a holographic screen. Yumi has her head in her hands as she sits wistfully, and I hear my own words in a distant, digitally foreign mimicry,

“Only a Shimada can control the dragons… who are you?”

I feel a wave of electricity as those moments replay in my mind, the nervous burn of feeling my own spiritual energy run through my body, searing my soul. I remember my body collapsing, numb and weak, and those words formed through disbelieving lips. In the projection, the silver and green figure blinks beside me, blade at my throat, posturing as he held my life on it's edge.

For a moment, the tingle of memory becomes a wash of heat; this moment of great shame is being watched by a woman young enough to have just entered adulthood, staring at the screen as if it were simply a rerun of a popular anime. She sits in comfort, knowing nothing of the pain that still echoes through my mind, and how welcome I was to that moment being my last if it meant ending the torment.

“Do it, then. Kill me.”

“No.”

The scene continues in front of me, the camera angles changing as my nearly successful assassin removes his mask, and even from the poor quality of the video, I recognize those eyes. Body burned and ruined, but with eyes still flaring with unspeakable truth. 

My thoughts are interrupted with an odd sound, the wet noise pulling my from my memory. When it repeats, I realize only then that Yumi is sobbing. 

Why? Are her tears for herself, or for me? Surely I am mistaken, she couldn't be…

I see her figure wipe at her eyes with her oversized sleeves, and it is unmistakable. She weeps for this moment. She weeps for me.

\---

“I have accepted what I am and I have forgiven you. Now you must forgive yourself.” I recite, these words have gone over in my mind during meditation many times. Forgiveness of oneself is something everyone could learn. “The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it is time to pick a side.”

I watch Genji leap onto a nearby rooftop as Hanzo ran to fetch an arrow, drawing it to fire at his brother. 

“Real life is not like the stories our father told us! You were a fool for believing it so!”

“Perhaps I am a fool to think there is still hope for you, but I do. Think on that, brother.” Genji disappears and Hanzo lowers his bow, returning to the altar to further reflect. The silence that meets me after the video ends is broken by a deep, shuddering breath, my own breath, as I attempt to regain control of myself.

\---

As I relive those moments captured in low resolution holographic images, Yumi’s voice echoes in sorrowed impersonation. The disbelief of my voice, the surety of my brother's, even the tones and inflections of our dialects mirror those captured in video, up until the images crackle and distort, the universal symbol for 'replay’ dominating a now grayed out thumbnail image. 

Whatever offense, doubt, or objection to this young lady's understanding of my troubles are blanketed by the warmth of empathy. This girl could not have kept these moments for greed, superiority, or judgement, not with the shuddering breaths she takes as she lay her head down and wept. She opens her heart to these ghosts of ourselves, and make my burdens, and my brother's wisdom, her own.

Why? What would drive a creature of such piety and devotion to worship those moments? To reflect upon such turmoil, and shed tears for… for me?

Then her head rises, and she begins to lament.

\---  
Head bowed in my arms, I shake my head as I struggle to speak,

“Great men should not wish their death…” I mutter as I take my glasses off to wipe my eyes. “Oh, Hanzo...I wish you knew what you meant to so many...You are the stories that we are told, now. You are the legends we look up to. You are the Dragon of the South Wind.”.

\---

I am the Dragon of the South Wind.

Genji believes in those stories so fiercely, and all these years, even now, I could not acknowledge the truth as he saw it.

And now, hers is finally someone that believes in me as unquestioningly as my brother does… and I can no longer deny this truth. 

To this girl…. And maybe to more than I care to believe, I am the Dragon of the South Wind. And if I can believe this truth...

Then I am truly on my Path of Healing.

\---

I look up at the Shimada crest on my wall and take one last, steadying breath,

“I’ve taken too long...I should bring this to Hanzo…”

I draw the thumb drive from my laptop, closing it shut, and walk over to the mirror once more. I dry my eyes and straighten my kimono, deciding that if he sees hints of my tears, but at least an attempt at holding onto my dignity, it will be enough.

\---

The screen flickers and fades, and I snap out of my revery. Panic flares, and I find myself racing back to the altar. I am swift and quiet, and as I take my position, kneeling before the arrow and the sword, I force my eyes shut and still my breathing. 

And as I focus, I feel a wetness between my closed lids, and it takes all of my will to not rub furiously at my eyes, and to find tranquility and stillness.

\--

I make my way back to the altar, my eyes dry and face mostly back to its normal color. I breathe in the night air before slipping back into the temple quietly, making my way toward Hanzo where he kneels. He seems so at peace in his meditation, so I make my way as silently as possible before kneeling close to him and placing the thumb drive next to him.

Not wanting to bother him further, I back away and turn to head back to my room.

\--

I do not flinch when I hear her approach, and expect her to offer some sort of apology, or final parting. Instead, she simply places the requested storage device by my side, pauses, then reverently pads away.

Such devotion, such respect. This temple maiden, this… Yumi, deserves better for believing in me. For believing me, as my brother does.

“Temple Maiden.”

I speak evenly, making it more a command than an inquiry.

\--

I freeze at the words that shatter my calm and turn around nervously, bowing to him. 

“Yes, Shimada-Sama?” I ask, figuring the safest route is to be as respectful as possible.

\--

My lips twitch in a grin, but I suppress the expression,

“Kneel before this altar, and pay your respects.”

\--

I look up at him and blink in surprise before rising, quickly making my way toward him.

“Y-yes, Shimada-Sama.” I say as I come closer, but stay a respectful distance from him as I kneel next to him. I take a moment to look up at the Shimada banner before looking down at the items in front of us. I glance at Hanzo out of the corner of my eye before I close my eyes respectfully. I try to pray, try to empty my mind as I had so many times during meditation. But being so close to Hanzo is making my skin tingle. I am not sure if it is my nervousness or the inert, static charge of his dragon’s power radiating from him, but it is more distracting than any challenge that had been tested upon me during my training.

\--

The silence spreads before the two of us, before I find it appropriate to break it,

“Do you believe in the old legends, Yumi-san? Of the dragon brothers, and their journeys?”

\--

I pause as my eyes open but I do not dare look at him at that moment. I take a deep breath and nod, a faint smile touching my lips,

“Yes, very much.” I reply quietly. “Their lessons are what made me become a Shrine Maiden, a Miko. I felt the training involved would be the best way to put those stories into practice.”

\--

My eyebrow raises a fraction, but I inquire,

“And what sort of training does that entail?”

\--

“As a Miko, I have been trained in the communication with the kami and other spirits, and have passed through trials so that I may enter a complete trance state. I also have the ability to purify those possessed by malevolent spirits.” I explain simply. “And, in addition to that, I took lessons from family members in sword, bow, hand to hand among other things, but those were the ones I focused on the most.”

I smile slightly, no one had ever asked me about my training. Perhaps he is just humoring me, but that is unexpected enough that I enjoy the thought behind it.

\--

I nod, knowing the process, but still wanting her to remind herself of her capabilities, by reminding me of them,

“And in this year of tending to these grounds, who have you practiced these duties with?”

\--

I pause and sigh.

“It has been a...Quiet year...Most nights are spent very much like this. Prayer, training alone, cleaning and...My computer.” I say lowering my head. “I have yet to really use any of my abilities outside of target practice or sparring with dummies. People don’t come around the temple much anymore, in general.”

\--

It was as I expected, but I nod my head solemnly and grunt in a non-committal way, as if it were something of concern,

“If there is no one to supervise you, or at least check in on your efforts, who will be able to tell the difference?”

\-- 

I blink and look at him, unsure whether I should be offended or not.

“I...That is an excellent point, Shimada-sama, but the family is stretched so thin, and the abilities of a single Temple Maiden are not a priority at this time.”

I turn from him, may hands smoothing out my robes in a nervous gesture, 

“I understand, of course, and hold no ill will toward them. I only keep myself busy and train on my own, so I am ready should I need my abilities.” 

I feel a weight burden my chest, and I take a deep breath to try to lighten it, 

“Though, I understand your concern, and I will see if perhaps I could get someone out here to help me in the coming months.”

\--

I nod, following in her example and taking a deep, troubled breath, and frown, 

“The Shimada clan has always prided itself in its appearances, whether through fear or respect. It seems that most of whom were left of the clan depended on fear, so it falls on our respectful shoulders to make up for those who have forgotten their duties to this family.”

I pause, feeling the tension radiating off of her petite form, and peek to the side, offering the faintest of grins.

\--

I look over at him and stare, did he just smile at me? Did Hanzo just...Smile at all, least of all at me? I blush and push a lock of hair behind my ear. 

“Our ‘respectful shoulders’, Shimada-Sama?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Are you going to be returning?”

\--

“Not immediately, not yet. But…”

I let my voice soften, a voice I usually reserve for curses, or prayers,

“For the first time in ages… in this age of mine, at least, I am beginning to know peace. Peace, and healing. And in that, comes trust, and faith.”

Doubt and caution and distrust swells within me, but I take a deep, cleansing breath, and remind myself of Genji's wisdom,

“Yumi-san. In my sorrow and grief, I have chosen to ignore certain facts. Certain… truths. These truths have had many opportunities to be revealed, and acknowledged. They have come from many sources; those who fight beside me, and those who attempt to live beside me. To both, I have shunned.”

I close my eyes, and empty my mind, taking in the neutral silence around me,

“There is a peace here, in the Shimada Temple. A stillness, an ease, of which I have not felt for a long time. The trees no longer shudder when the wind blows through them, they sway. The incense does not twist and knot itself angrily, it dances and flows. The air itself does not stiffle, nor does it lay still and heavy. It simply breathes now, and in its breath, is life.”

I reach down, finding the small plastic device that is the flash drive, and turn it in my fingers,

“These memories… hold great value to me. And I now know the value it holds for you.”

Slowly, I offer the drive back to her, open my eyes, and am greeted with the purest, most genuine wonder and hope I have ever seen, framed by brown hair and oval glasses,

“I know now that this was not something to ask for, or take back. This is a gift, that only I have the means to offer, and for you to find value in. It is yours, now.”

\--

I stare at him, my eyes flicking from his gaze, to the thumb drive in his hand, then back. I carefully reach out with trembling fingers, and take the drive from his palm,

“Shimada-Sama...I…I’m not sure what to say...” 

I find the courage to keep his stare, and his face is softer now; a slight smile and his eyes much more relaxed as he looks at me. 

That gaze melts my resolve, and as I hold the thumb drive to my chest, and bow my head both in respect, and to hide the tears raining down,

“Thank you… thank you Shimada-sama. I will be so, so careful, and make sure no one else knows of this. It will be in my possession always. If something happened to you or Genji because of something I did...I would never forgive myself. I… I would rather fall on a blade then cause you any harm!”

\--

I nod once, thankful that the tears falling from her eyes were not in sorrow, 

“That will likely not be necessary, Yumi, but your loyalty and honor is not unnoticed.”

I go to raise a hand to comfort her, find the attempt of the gesture foreign and strange, and decide to change the subject.”

“As you may guess, I originally had no intentions on staying longer than I needed to, here. I feel those intentions changing, and while I still have my obligations elsewhere, I believe I can draw more… focus here, and in the future. Even if I must do so quietly, as to not disturb the illusion of inactivity and sleepy atmosphere the temple currently has, I can still do well to do my part in seeing the family grounds taken care of.”

\---

My eyes widen further and I fight the urge to gasp and clap my hands in excitement. I take a breath and rub at my eyes with my sleeves,

“If that would please you, I would be honored to have you around the temple and will be happy to make you feel at home as much as I can.” I say looking back up to him. “I hope you can extend the offer to Genji, as well. To have the brothers together in the temple, in peace will be...Well, it’s exactly what the family needs.”

\--

I felt myself not exactly wincing, but raising a hand in moderation,

“That… is something that will not happen immediately. While I find myself coming to terms with my role and purpose, Genji and I are still, well…”

I try to find the words that would not dampen her excitement too greatly,

“... If I must say it like this… we are of the North and South Winds. There is still much of ourselves that differ, and I am not sure I am ready to seek him out on my own accord. But, if my brother happens to be on the same temple grounds, it would not be immediate cause for me to leave.”

\---

I look up at him and blush.

“Y-yes...Of course, my excitement clouded my judgement...Of course I understand.” My excitement persists as the reality of his future presence sinks in,

“But, having a Shimada back in the temple, a True Shimada of direct blood and honor, is cause for celebration. I only wish I wasn’t the only one that thought so. I know it is foolish to say, and may be too bold of me to say it but…”

I try to temper myself, but what I plan to say, what I feel, seems too true to be with,

“I… I’m sorry for what happened to you.” 

I force myself to look into his eyes as I say it,

“What the Clan expected you to do under the guise of duty was...Was wrong...To expect someone to do that to their own family, regardless of how different they were, was cruel. I am sorry you must live with that knowledge, and I truly hope that you can forgive yourself fully and find peace.”

I finally pull my eyes from his, blushing deeper and deeper as I speak. “I apologize if I speak of such things and it hurts you… to be honest, half the reason why I am cooped up alone in this temple is because I have been chastised for having a loose tongue…”

I blush fiercely at the way that phrase came out, and I have to choke out my thoughts through the heat of my face,

“But.. I want to let you know that...That your sorrow is understood, and if there is an ounce of joy, even contentment that I may bring you, I will make it my life’s work to do so.”

\--

At first, her words bring sorrow to me… but it wasn't driven by anger, or by shame, as it so usually was. Instead, it is a calm sorrow, a knowledge of what was lost, but an acknowledgement of what had been done.

Yet, as this young girl, this temple maiden stumbles over her words and pledges her life towards the pursuit of my will, I find her efforts endearing, and her words heavy with honor.

“I believe… I can begin to accept that. But know that you are already helping me, as through your efforts and honor, the state of this temple has brought me the promise of sanctuary. It would be fitting to further invest in the state of these grounds, and your own well being. You have not had anyone to guide your training since your aunt's involvement, I have been led to understand?”

\---

“Well...Yes…” I reply. “I was being trained as her replacement...She has been sick and now has moved to the country to hopefully get better. There have not been any other maidens of the temple for some time…”

He looks at me in a neutral, expectant manner, and my hands tighten in my lap. 

“But, I do not expect you to take it upon yourself to assist a single temple maiden. It is...Beneath you. You have important work to see to.”

I sit up a little straighter, pride and duty filling in where doubt had been just before,

“But I promise that the temple will be taken care of, Shimada-sama. I have devoted my life to it and I find renewed purpose in it, knowing you will be returning. And, whenever you can make it back to this place, I will do my very best to make it as tranquil as it is this very moment. You deserve a place to escape the life you lead. All the better if it is your home.”

\--

I feel a softness reach my eyes,

“What of your bow training? When is the last time you've challenged yourself? Do you not also want to protect the home you tend to?

\---

“The bow is my preferred weapon, I practice every morning.” I state matter of factly. “Target shooting at various distances, along with moving shots and moving targets as well as arrow retrieval.” 

I look at him as his eyebrow raises just a fraction, and I blush. 

“It is a habit I formed at a very young age.”

\--

I cross my arms, and keep my expression,

“So, you have no need for further assistance then? You've mastered your craft, and learned everything you're capable of learning?”

\--

I look up at him and shake my head.

“Oh, no no...I do not claim to be a master like you, not at all. I have only shot wooden bows and arrows for example, but…” My eyes flick to his bow and I cannot keep the wanting look from my face. “We don’t all have the...Resources to allow us finer tools.” I look back to him and smile. “Not all of us are worthy of such mastery.”

\--

I chalk off her density to my advances as youthful inexperience, turn my whole body towards her to bypass any hint of subtlety or wordplay, and speak in a long sigh,

“Yumi-san, I'm trying to offer my knowledges and masteries to you. Would you accept my offer as a means to show my gratitude to your service and devotion to my name?”

\---

I stare at him as he faces me, my hands gripping my kimono and breath filling my lungs to capacity. I have dreamed of this opportunity many times in my life, and at the moment where all my dreams are coming true I cannot speak, or move.

I feel as though I am about to detonate, my soul a firework streaking into the night sky set to burst into sparkling, illuminating light. A high squeal readies itself in my throat, and I feel as though no ceiling would be able to contain my coiled leap of happiness…

However, a rush of calm washes out the fuse that set my heart alight, and I elect to keep my spiritual training in mind; I release the tension in my hands, then my arms, to my shoulders and slowly to the rest of my body. I raise my hands to remove my glasses, cleaning them carefully on my sleeve, before returning them to their place and meeting his gaze. 

“I can say with utmost truth...Nothing would make me happier in this life or the next, Shimada-Sensei.” I say, acknowledging his role as my teacher. I bow low to him, my forehead touching the floor, and I allow myself to smile though my joy with my face hidden to him,

“Thank you for your offer.”

\--

Seeing her bow down to me like this makes me realize something;

In all my years on this earth, fighting, running, and lamenting over every moment since the betrayal of my own family…

… that I have never had a pupil.

An unexpected pride overcomes me, and I feel myself straightening… but unsure of what to do exactly. What does one do when the other has pledged their life to you? Are there a certain combination of words to speak, sealing their path and binding their fate to yours? Does one simply acknowledge those words, but risk the danger of not receiving their value, and have them fade in the moment? Or should I immediately take the role of sensei and begin this new responsibility immediately?

Not knowing what to do, I instead allow myself to simply act without doubt: I lay a hand on her shoulder, and sigh, 

“You’re welcome, Yumi-san.”

\---

I stiffen as I feel his hand on me and I lift myself to look up at him, no longer hiding my beaming face. 

“Please, know that I hold you to no obligation, Sensei. I know what you do is important…” I say sitting up completely. “And I understand if an immediate start is too much to ask. And if that be the case, please let me make you up a room so that you may rest and find the solitude you no doubt sought in coming here.”

\--

I feel myself nodding, and offer a grin that I feel I need not suppress as strictly as before,

“If that pleases you, then make it so. I feel there is… much to reflect upon.”

Turning back towards the altar, my hands find my knees, and my eyes close naturally,

“Go tend to your wishes, I will leave you to them.”

\---

I smile and bow again. “Yes, Sensei.” I say before standing and making my way back to the dormitories. I cannot keep myself from squeaking in happiness, dancing about as I roll out a bedroll and prepare tea for Hanzo. I quickly make a small, simple meal as well and grab a set of simple robes. I lay everything out in a room that was a few doors down from mine, confident that if he needed me for any reason, I would be within earshot.

\---

Yumi’s presence fades, and my mind wanders into the uncertainties of the future. Without truly meaning to, not only have I made the Shimada Temple my home again, but I have taken a pupil as a means of finding balance to my actions. I have found that my home is in better condition now after leaving it. I found a temple maiden instead of assassins, truth from shame, and responsibility in penance. All of this in a span of moments… moments with which I would have never predicted, or even fathomed could be possible for myself.

\---

With everything in place, and my elation brought down to more manageable levels, I make my way back to the temple proper. As I expected, Hanzo is still in meditation, no doubt reflecting on the past hour or so in a manner that suited him well: quiet, reserved, regal.

As before, I quietly make my way in; but instead of taking a place beside him, I sit behind and to the side of Hanzo, allowing him space and time to finish his centering. 

I do my best not to look at him, however there is little doubt that someone as perceptive as he is would be able to tell if someone was staring. Yet, every now and again I allow my eyes to wander over his shoulders and back, taking in the details of the beautiful dragon tattoo along his left arm. Surely if he knows I am here, and has not asked for solitude, this means he trusts me, right? And if he feels me staring, and makes no attempt to correct me, then it is welcome? At least tolerated? What happens when the student crushes on their teacher? Have I just become a shojo anime trope?

I shake my head clear and make a weak attempt to clear my mind, but I quickly abandon any attempts to meditate further. I am not able to focus with the sight in front of me, the naked left shoulder of Hanzo Shimada closer to me then I would have ever dreamed of. And yet, this man, this legend, had just claimed me as a pupil, a student.

Which means, to my knowledge and deduction, I am the only person… the only woman in recent history he’s taken responsibility for.

The thought runs a hot shiver through my body, and while most of me feels shame for such thoughts in this holy place…

I feel as though the kami would forgive this one time lapse in devotion.

\--

It is not long until I feel her presence return, and there is an unfamiliar comfort in her being close. She seems to recognize and value silence and space, but as I feel the weight of her gaze upon me, I do not feel provoked or bothered as I had feared. Her presence is that of a decision made in good faith; sure and satisfying.

Tonight, I will sleep with a peace I had not known in decades, and awake knowing that tomorrow will not be faced alone.

Knowing she could catch a glimpse of my face from behind, I turn my head slightly, allow myself a smile, and let her guess if I were still capable of still doing such things.


End file.
